


Pieces

by apokfan (writing1swat)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean's POV, Gen, Minor Character Death, One Shot, other characters mentioned in passing, tag 9x09 Holy Terror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-05
Updated: 2013-12-05
Packaged: 2018-01-03 13:06:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1070793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writing1swat/pseuds/apokfan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s alone again. It’s like the Stanford years all over again with his dad in the wind and Sam off having a normal life and he’s putting miles between both of them in his Impala. Only this time everyone’s dead and Sam went MIA and it’s Cas in the wind, not dad, and it’s all Dean’s fault. All of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> There's not much to say about this. This episode made me think. Here's what I wrote.

Dean’s sure he’s going to spend his whole life alone at this point. It’s just the Hunter lifestyle, the gig, the family business. Or all the angels and demons messing with his head. Either way one thing’s made clear: He’s not supposed to have friends, family. It’s a morbid thought but it’s true. He’s tried hard to fight it but there’s no fighting life, not when it wants to put you on your back and stick a knife in your stomach and turn the damn blade. He knows from first-hand experience what that feels like. 

Dean’s sitting alone in the bunker, the Bat Cave as he dubbed it what feels like a lifetime ago. He’s taking a swig of a beer bottle, elbows on the table, expression forlorn as he tries not to think about anything that’s happened in the past few hours. He’s all cried up for the night. Maybe forever, he thinks bitterly. All Dean wants to do is get hammered and forget. Forget, forget, forget, because Dean’s alone again.

It’s like the Stanford years all over again with his dad in the wind and Sam off having a normal life and he’s cruising in the Impala putting stretches of road and distance and miles between them both. Only this time he’s got Crowley in the dungeon and Kevin Tran is still lying dead somewhere behind him, he’s sure if he turns around he can see a foot, the kid’s lifeless hand, burned out eyes never seeing again, and he can’t, he can’t turn because what if Dean isn’t cried out after all? What if he starts crying again, and he can’t stop himself this time? What if he cries the rest of the night away? He drinks instead.

Sam’s MIA and while Cas may have his grace back, become an angel again, he’s in the wind also, fighting his own war, scared, terrified and even he is powerless to raise the dead, not with Heaven closed, out of reach to all but Metatron. Everything’s Dean’s fault. He’s alone and it’s his fault. For trusting so blindly to a random angel. He laughs bitterly at the thought, mouths angel like it’s something hilarious and sad and ironic because really, when did angels become something so twisted and bad and just plain dicks?

He mulls it over for another moment before chugging the rest of the beer. Everything’s his fault and he knows he has to fix it. Tomorrow. He’ll fix it all tomorrow. Or maybe he’ll wake up from this nightmare. Either way, it’ll all have to wait until tomorrow, he thinks sleepily. He gets to his feet and stumbles to the couch, tries not to trip over Kevin in the process. Dean looks lazily at the ceiling and thinks it’d be fitting if he were to right now suddenly get shot or something. Dying alone in a motel, isn’t that what every hunter dreams of? He glances at Kevin and barks a laugh before sleep finally lulls him over with its sweet and enticing song.


End file.
